Glimpses of the End
by Damien J. Frost
Summary: “Well then, let us begin,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small velvet ring box.


**_Glimpses of the End _**

_By Damien J. Frost_

**Disclaimer:** _Harry Potter,_ and all items associated with, are property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., et al. There is no profit being gained from the content of this story and it is to be used solely for private entertainment purposes. The plot is the intellectual property of the writer. No parts of this story are to be duplicated or posted elsewhere without the expressed permission of the author.

This story is rated "K+" or "PG" by the guidelines of the fansite on which it is posted.

* * *

He didn't understand how it could have happened.

She wasn't supposed to be there, much less with _him_. She was supposed to be at work, going through dull paperwork on elf and goblin rights.

But she wasn't. She was lying in their bed, and _he _was there with her.

They hadn't noticed him yet, and he supposed he could have turned around and left, pretended he didn't see anything.

He could have pretended to remain blissfully ignorant.

Not now, though.

Now, he was too shocked to be angry. Too crushed to rage.

It was like a physical blow when she moaned the other man's name, and he cringed from the force.

"Draco…"

She never sounded like that when _they_ made love.

Casting his eyes down, he shook his head and shut the door quietly behind him.

Reaching the kitchen, he sat at the dining room table and looked around their home. The two of them had worked long and hard for the life they had built together, and now she was in their bedroom, with another man, throwing it all away.

The tears started falling as another moan reached his ears.

This was too much.

Standing, he walked to the kitchen counter to retrieve a spare scrap of parchment and scribbled out a note, teardrops splashing onto it a diluting the ink.

As he finished, he heard _him_, and his anger swelled.

Taking a calming breath, he set the note on the kitchen table, knowing she would see it.

His wedding ring followed.

Looking one last time toward their room, he sighed and walked out the door, where he could apparate without being heard.

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the shower with a satisfied smile on her face.

These indiscretions with the blond man always left her feeling extremely guilty, but she had learned quickly that she was addicted.

He was a dangerous, passionate lover, and that was something that her husband had sorely been lacking.

She loved Ron, yes. Almost always had, but there was something about the snake…

Shaking her head, she smiled awkwardly at the sleeping form on the bed.

He was exquisite.

She had met up with him one night, nearly six months prior, at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade Village. He was the current Potions Professor at Hogwarts, and she had just left an interview with Headmistress McGonagall for the position of Charms Professor. Flitwick had decided that he was too old to keep up with today's youth, and had decided to step down at the end of the current year.

The chestnut-haired witch had been there celebrating, for the Headmistress had surreptiously informed her that she was the front-runner for the position, considering her excellent marks in school and all the charms work she did for the Ministry.

It was only the beginning of the school year, and Hermione knew she would be waiting for several months before she heard anything definitive, but she felt it was a cause for celebration nonetheless.

Unfortunately, Ron couldn't be there with her. He was somewhere in Croatia, rooting about for a Death Eater camp that the Ministry had been tipped off about.

She would have called Harry, but he was off on his honeymoon with Ginny – they had _finally_ tied the knot.

So, alone she sat, nursing her fifth Icelandic Cherry Rum and Soda, when an attractive blond man had taken the stool next to her at the bar and ordered a glass of Ogden's. She looked over and smiled, the alcohol blurring her vision and judgment enough that she didn't recognize him for the boy she had known in school.

She had seen an attractive drinking companion.

When Hermione had awoken the next morning, it had been in a strange, opulent room, with a heavy, tattooed arm draped over her.

Through her pounding head, she had seen the Dark Mark, and rolled over to see piercing mercury eyes laughing at her, and the memory of the previous night came rushing back to her, leaving her in a panic.

She swore up and down to herself that it had been a mistake, it would never happen again.

A month later, she had called upon Hogwarts to see him again.

With a sigh and a shake of her head to clear the memories, she decided to let him nap for a little longer, and walked out into the kitchen.

She had taken a personal day, needing some time off from training her replacement at the ministry. Ron had told her that he was leaving for Moscow this morning, hunting down a rumor on some Death Eater.

Again.

She bustled around the kitchen, setting a teapot to boil on the stove, and placed two muffins in the toaster. She hummed quietly as she picked up the _Daily Prophet_, which lay on the counter, and flipped through it, finding articles she would come back and read while she ate.

When the water began boiling, she poured herself a cup, set a teabag in, grabbed her muffins, and sat at the dining room table, reading the paper as she did.

After a few moments, her hand brushed something as she reached for her food, and she looked at the table over her paper.

The sound of shattering porcelain and a heart-wrenching scream brought the blond man running.

* * *

"I –"

The redhead shook his head violently, effectively cutting off anything she had been about to say.

It had been six months since he had found them together, and he still couldn't look at her. "Just sign the bloody papers so I can leave," he said, his voice calm until it cracked on the last word.

She had tried explaining to him, to make excuses, but he was having none of it. He knew that excuses and explanations would never make up for what she did. It had destroyed him.

He had thrown himself into his work, only stopping long enough to contact a barrister to arrange the divorce proceedings.

He refused to be married to a woman that had been unfaithful a moment longer than necessary.

Tears trailing down her cheeks, she signed the papers that would officially end their marriage.

With a nod to his lawyer, he stood and stormed out of the room. Even being in her presence was stifling.

He heard her call his name, and almost paused, until he saw a flash of platinum blond in front of him.

There was no shock to keep him from getting angry now, and he reared back and planted a solid right hook to the other man's jaw that sent him to the ground.

"I hope you're happy, you evil little prat," he spat, standing over the other man. "You took the only I ever wanted."

She ran up to them, and he turned and walked away, her cries for him to wait fading quickly behind him.

* * *

She watched him go, his flaming hair rapidly being drowned out by the dreary London morning.

"Its over than?" came an inquisitive voice from the floor.

Reaching out, she offered the source of her troubles a hand up. "Yeah, its over," she whispered, through her tears.

A sad smile played across his lips. "For what it's worth, I am sorry," he replied, taking her hand and hefting himself up. Reaching his feet, he rubbed a hand over the sore spot on his cheek.

She knew it would probably bruise.

He wrapped an arm around her and led her to the door. "So, do you want to go to the Three Broomsticks, get your mind off the past?" he asked lightly and cautiously.

Pressing herself closer to his warmth as they stepped out into the rain and gloom, she nodded. "Yeah, and tomorrow, we'll talk about the future," she whispered, her tears mingling with the falling rain.

* * *


End file.
